


Commitments

by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beginning of pregnancy only, Hate to Love, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, One Night Stands, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/pseuds/Chelsea%20Frew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU loosely based on the movie <i>27 Dresses</i>. Harry is a fan of weddings, and Louis writes about weddings. They have sex, create a baby, then meet. Can they straighten themselves out after doing things completely out of order?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commitments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I love the movie _27 Dresses_ , so when I was offered this pinch hit, I jumped on it. I deviated quite a bit from the plot of the movie, but hopefully the highlights I hit worked. Due to time constraints, this story only has the very beginning of Harry's pregnancy. Apologies for that! Thanks to Cori Lannam for listening to be plot this story, then offering her beta services. Any mistakes left are mine and only mine.
> 
> Littlebigsploun, I hope you enjoy it!

The minute Harry blinked his eyes open, he knew he wasn't in his own flat. Just two weeks earlier, he and Niall had painted Harry's bedroom a soothing pale blue colour, and the walls he was facing now were most definitely more of the pale green variety.

He sat up so quickly his head spun a little. Where the fuck was he?

The moan from the space next to Harry alerted him that he was not alone in the bed with the dark brown duvet. There was a man with caramel-coloured hair reaching his arms up over his head in a morning stretch.

It was slowly coming back to Harry. He had been seated at the same reception table as the man waking himself up with a stretch. Harry had been there for the bride, and the man with the caramel hair had been there for the groom. They'd chatted with each other through the whole of dinner, and when they opened up the dance floor, the other man--Louis, Harry's foggy memory produced a name--asked Harry to dance. He didn't even seem to mind that Harry basically had two left feet.

When the reception was beginning to wind down, Louis had invited Harry back to his place for a late night snack, which had turned out to be eggs and bacon--one of the few dishes Louis could apparently prepare. They had eaten hastily, washing the food down with some beers. Then one thing had led to another, and Harry and Louis had engaged in some fairly steamy sex. Several times.

Harry groaned. What had he been thinking?

"Good morning," a raspy voice disturbed Harry's reverie.

Without saying a word, Harry scuttled out of bed and located his pants and jeans in a nearby pile of clothes, slipping them on as quickly as he could. His shirt was in a different pile, and he pulled it over his head. He had to slip it off and on again when he realised it was inside out.

"I don't remember you being a mute last night," Louis commented wryly.

When Harry paused in the middle of finger brushing his hair to look over at Louis, Louis was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Sorry," Harry said, dropping his hands to his side. "I didn't…. I don't usually…." He sighed and pointed vaguely in the direction of the bedroom door. "I need to…go."

Louis shifted himself so he could sit on the edge of the bed, feet on the cold wooden floor. "Sure you don't want to stay for a cup of coffee?"

"Thanks," Harry replied. "That sounds great, but I need to get going. Work."

"Sure," Louis allowed. "Do what you gotta do, right?"

Harry spotted his tie and slung it around his neck. "Yeah." He made it all the way to the door before his manners caught up to him, and he turned back around. "I had a really good time."

Louis smiled. "I did, too."

"Maybe we'll run into each other again," Harry added, completely sincere, while at the same time recognising how unlikely it was.

"You never know," Louis said, offering Harry a blink-and-you-miss-it wink.

Louis' unbridled cuteness caused Harry to freeze for just a second, but he swiftly recovered himself, turned the doorknob, and hustled out of Louis' bedroom. Time to head back to his life.

* * *

"This one," Harry declared, his mouth full. He swallowed before continuing, "This is the best cake I've ever had."

Jane reached across the table to dig her fork into the slice of cake on Harry's plate. A second after she placed the bite in her mouth, she said, "Mmmm," and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. She swallowed and commented, "You're right, that is amazing."

"Try this one!" Tessa, the baker, demanded, setting two slices of a cake coloured a deep, rich red in front of them. "This works well as a groom's cake."

"Nobody gets groom's cakes anymore," a new voice entered the conversation.

Jane already faced the entrance to the shop, but Harry had to whip his head to see who had so rudely interrupted their tasting.

A blush sped from his neck right up into his cheeks when he recognised the newcomer as his one night stand from Bella's wedding a month earlier. "Louis?"

With a wide grin on his face, Louis approached the table where Jane and Harry sat. "That's me. Louis Tomlinson. I'm looking for Jane Nichols."

Jane looked at him with confusion. "I'm Jane. Do I know you?"

"Professionally I go by Malcolm Tomlinson," Louis explained.

Harry choked on nothing but air, coughing profusely as he realised that Louis could well be _the_ Malcolm Tomlinson.

_Sunday was Harry's favourite day of the week. He often had weddings to attend on Saturdays, but Sundays were his and his alone, at least most of the time._

_He would wake up late, sleeping in the only day he really could, then got up and made tea--milk, two sugars--and toast. Once his breakfast was ready, it was time to collect the **Sunday Times** from the front doorstep._

_He threw aside every section of the paper except the **Living** section. Settling back against the cushions of his comfy sofa, he opened the section to the second page, home to **Commitments** , the column dedicated to the week's finest wedding. Harry cut out his favourite columns; he had a side table drawer full of them. He worshipped the author for being able to put everything Harry loved about weddings into words. That author was Malcolm Tomlinson._

"You're Malcom Tomlinson? The Malcolm Tomlinson who writes _Commitments_?" Harry sputtered, completely flustered. He'd slept with Malcolm Tomlinson?

Louis' grin intensified and turned just a little bit wicked. "That's me."

Jane clapped her hands joyously, clearly oblivious to Harry's reaction to Louis' appearance. "You're writing about my wedding? Your editor told me there was a chance, so I gave him my schedule. I never dreamed I would get so lucky."

Louis continued to beam, shifting his gaze to intentionally meet Harry's before returning his attention to the bride-to-be. "Well, lucky you are. You and your childhood sweetheart getting married. Who doesn't love that kind of story?"

The beam Jane sent Louis' way was a sight to behold. "I can't wait to tell Niall."

Louis pointed toward Harry, a well-feigned look of innocence on his face. "This isn't your groom?"

Jane giggled. "No. This is our best friend, Harry Styles. Niall had to be at work, so Harry agreed to come with me to pick the wedding cake."

Louis stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Harry Styles."

Harry took Louis' hand, trying hard not to focus on how warm and soft it was. "Nice to meet you, too."

"So, it's the groom's cake you're deciding on?" Louis drove the conversation back to the task at hand. Cheekily, he added, "Even though no one gets them anymore?"

"Yes! Niall really wants one," Jane explained. She gestured in the direction of the divine lemon-infused cake she and Harry had both found to be heavenly. "I think I'm going with that one for the main cake. You should try it."

Louis deliberately stole the fork from Harry's plate. "I don't mind if I do." He used the fork to take a sizable piece from the piece of cake Harry had not quite finished. After a moment, Louis hummed his approval. "That one _is_ very good. An excellent choice. And if I may…?" He stole a bite of the potential groom's cake from Harry as well.

Jane audibly held her breath as they awaited Louis' verdict.

Louis licked his lips in a way that made Harry want to throw him down on the floor and kiss him senseless. Harry was willing that thought out of his head when Louis said, "That one's good, too, but chocolate's usually the way to go with a groom's cake."

"Really?" Jane asked.

Louis confirmed his conclusion with a nod. "Assuming the groom likes chocolate."

"He does," Jane assured him. "Tessa?"

The baker hurried to the table from the spot she'd been patiently waiting in ever since Louis had appeared. "Yes?"

"Do you have any chocolate we could try?" Jane wanted to know.

"Of course." Tessa wasted no time in scurrying off to go get some samples.

While Harry watched, Louis pinched a stool from the table behind them and parked it right in between Jane and Harry. Then he pulled a voice recorder from his messenger bag. "So, shall we get started?"

"Sure," Jane said, voice bubbly. Harry knew she loved nothing more than talking about Niall and her upcoming nuptials with Niall.

Harry, however, had been friends with the two of them since primary school, so he had heard all of Jane's stories several million times. Therefore, he tuned out the interview to focus all his attention on Louis. He paused this study only long enough to taste the four different chocolate cake slices Tessa brought out.

After dutifully tasting each slice and declaring that his favourite was the one with the hint of raspberry in it, Harry returned to admiring Louis.

Louis was incredibly attractive. His skin was lightly tanned, as if he spent ample time outdoors, and his hair was a warm caramel brown, tousled just slightly. It gave him a laissez faire air that Harry loved. Louis had blue eyes that reminded Harry of the sea, and his nose was just right, neither too big or too small. Louis was small--Harry had a couple inches on him--but he carried himself with such confidence, Harry was sure he hadn't ever had to defend himself too much from men who were bigger.

Harry had been aware of Louis' Yorkshire accent the night they'd spent together, but their conversation had been very casual. From the occasional snippets Harry caught of the questions Louis was asking Jane, it was clear that Louis was very intelligent. This made him infinitely more attractive.

"Harry?" Jane shook his arm. "Pay attention."

Shaking his head in confusion, Harry said, "What?" He hoped Louis hadn't noticed him staring.

Louis' open snicker answered that question as Jane told Harry, "I decided on the lemon one and the chocolate raspberry. Tessa has all my information, but Louis and I aren't done. We're going to go find a coffee shop to talk some more. Do you want to come with?"

Harry very much did, but judging by the smirk on Louis' face, he knew that tagging along would be an exercise in torture, and he would regret going, so he told a lie. "I wish I could, but I can't. I have some proofs to check for a client before tomorrow, so I need to get going."

Though he could tell she didn't quite buy the lie, Jane pouted. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded and stood up as Jane and Louis did the same. Harry gave Jane a hug, then held out his hand for Louis to shake. He was about to tell Louis it had been good to see him again when he remembered that he was trying not to reveal his one night stand to his best friend's fiancée. No reason to deal with that humiliation if he didn't have to. So he simply said, "Good to meet you, Louis. Do right by my girl here."

Louis nodded. "Absolutely."

Harry had grabbed his ever-present camera bag and was halfway to the store entrance when Louis called out, "Hey, Harry!"

Harry turned around and raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Yes, Louis?"

"Could I get your phone number?" Louis requested.

The confusion Harry felt must have shown on his face because Louis clarified, "In case I have questions about Jane and Niall. You are their oldest friend, aren't you?"

Harry had doubts that those were Louis' true intentions. He also had doubts about whether he wanted those to be Louis' true intentions. Or not. Either way, he offered Louis a big smile and walked over to take the mobile phone Louis was already holding out to him.

He typed his name and number into Louis' phone, then handed it back. "Call or text me any time."

Louis' lascivious grin told Harry Louis had taken Harry's words to a place Harry hadn't exactly intended, and the blush from earlier on returned to Harry's cheeks in full force. "I will," Louis promised. Or should that be _threatened_?

Harry coughed a little in embarrassment, but quickly recovered himself. "Okay, then. I'm off. See you later, Jane. Louis."

Giving neither of them the time to rope him into any further conversation, Harry booked it for the door. This time, he made it out.

* * *

When Louis did, in fact, text him asking to meet up so Louis could ask Harry questions about Niall and Jane for his article, Harry agreed. He wasn't at all sure he could keep himself composed around Louis, but he couldn't let Niall and Jane down.

They settled on the idea of meeting at a coffee shop the next morning. Louis was waiting at a corner table when Harry arrived a little bit early. It was comforting to think Louis might be as excited about spending some time with Harry as Harry was to be spending some time with Louis.

Louis stood when Harry walked through the door, and Harry felt himself blushing over the gesture. This did not bode well for his composure. As he approached the table Louis had claimed, Harry said, "No, no. Sit down."

Instead of doing as Harry requested, Louis shook his head. "No, I invited you here. I'm getting us drinks before we get started."

"Oh. Okay," Harry allowed.

"What would you like?" Louis inquired.

Might as well go with his usual. "Tea. Milk, two sugars."

"Yorkshire okay? It's my favourite," Louis told him.

"Yorkshire's fine."

"Coming right up."

Harry sat down to nervously await Louis' return. He didn't have to be sitting on his own for long. Louis was back less than five minutes later with two cups of tea, setting one down in front of Harry and keeping the other for himself.

As Louis settled back into his chair, he said, "Thank you for coming to meet me."

"Thank you for not telling Jane you and I had met before," Harry countered.

Louis grinned. "How do you know I didn't tell her after you left?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, scrutinising Louis for a moment, then shook his head. "No. You're not that kind of guy."

Louis' grin softened. "No, I'm not."

"And anything for Niall and Jane," Harry added. "They're the best."

"Jane was great," Louis agreed. "And I got to meet Niall as well. They seem like a great couple."

"They really are. Made for each other." Harry smiled just thinking about his friends.

"Now, you've known them since primary?" Louis asked, pulling out his voice recorder. He held it up and raised his eyebrows in question.

Harry nodded, giving Louis permission to record him. "We were all in the same form and we kind of just…gravitated to each other. Niall had just moved to England from Ireland, and Jane was from Wales. They were both so exotic to me. We stayed friends all through primary and secondary."

"So, it must be very exciting to you that they're getting married," Louis surmised, taking a sip from his tea.

Harry took a sip from his own tea before answering, "Of course. It's going to be a great day."

"Jane told me you helped plan just about all of the wedding, not just the cake part," Louis revealed.

Harry felt another blush creeping up his neck. He pulled in a deep breath to remain collected. "I did. Niall's just not into that kind of thing, and I am."

"Jane also told me she isn't the first bride you've helped. Or groom, for that matter," Louis said, grinning.

Harry was glad Louis found this amusing. He was already planning how he was going to make Jane pay for divulging this information to Louis.

"Was she telling the truth?" Louis asked, though glimmer in his eyes told Harry that he already knew the answer to that question.

Harry tried to get away with shrugging, but when he did, Louis side-eyed him, and Harry caved. With a sigh, he admitted, "She was."

"How many?" Louis sounded genuinely curious, although there was just a hint of teasing in his voice.

Harry stalled for time. "Including the ones that haven't happened yet?"

Louis nodded, smiling at Harry's discomfort. Twat.

"Twenty-seven," Harry mumbled.

"What was that?" Louis cupped his ear playfully. "I didn't quite catch it."

Harry sighed once more. Clearing his throat, he repeated in an only slightly louder voice, "Twenty-seven."

Louis gasped "Really?"

Resigned to his fate, Harry nodded. "Really."

"And were you..or will you be…a groomsman every time?" Louis wanted to know.

Harry gave another nod, the blush in his cheeks hot and uncomfortable. "Yep."

"That's…." Louis seemed at a loss for words. "That's…. Amazing."

Harry looked carefully at Louis' face, trying to determine whether or not Louis was mocking him, but Louis appeared to be sincere. Harry relaxed a little, but only a little.

"How did that happen?" Louis inquired. "How did you get involved in so many of your friends' weddings?"

Giving another shrug, Harry struggled to find the right words to explain. "I didn't set out to help out at so many weddings. It just kind of happened. My first was my friend Magda. Her groom travelled a lot, and there was so much to do. Flowers, the cake, the food, the venue, invitations. She asked me to help, so I did. It was a fantastic wedding."

"What happened then?" Louis urged him to go on.

"My friend Sebastian was getting married to his boyfriend Chris. Sebastian begged me to help him plan, since Chris was pretty useless at it. So I did," Harry told him. "That was my first gay wedding, and it went incredibly smoothly."

"You got hooked," Louis surmised.

"Hooked?" Harry was confused by Louis' supposition.

"Hooked on weddings," Louis clarified.

Harry smiled softly. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Louis shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?" Harry was confused yet again.

"Wedding after wedding after wedding," Louis said, a hint of disdain in his voice.

"But you go to wedding after wedding after wedding, too," Harry pointed out.

"For my job," Louis countered. "Believe me, the minute I can get my editor to publish something that isn't a wedding recap, I'm out of _Commitments_ for good."

"Really?" Harry was genuinely surprised. "But your columns…. You write about weddings so well!"

"It's a gift," Louis boasted, blowing on his fingernails and buffing them on his shirt in show of just how good he thought he was. He smiled softly, then, letting Harry know he was only kidding.

"Weddings are just so…magical, though," Harry swooned. "Don't you think so?"

Louis shrugged. "It seems like a lot of hoopla just to make promises that most people don't even keep."

Harry frowned. "So cynical."

"Well, what do you find so magical about it?" Louis questioned. His eyes were sincere, like he really wanted to know what Harry thought.

To give himself a minute to think of the right words with which to answer, Harry sipped at his cooling tea. Finally, he felt ready to try to make himself understood. He cleared his throat before beginning. "It's the ultimate commitment, isn't it? Two people standing up in front of everyone they know to declare exactly how much they love each other."

Shrugging once more, Louis was only willing to concede, "I guess."

"You guess?" Harry scoffed. "Have you ever made that kind of commitment?"

"Well, no," Louis admitted. He immediately turned the query around. "Have you?"

"No," Harry replied. "But I will. I have faith. And I can't wait."

"To get dressed up in a monkey suit to say _I do_?" Louis' tone was part teasing, part incredulous.

"That's not all there is," Harry reminded him. "There's the beautiful flowers, all your loved ones there to help you celebrate, the music, the reception. All in honour of how much you and your bride or groom love each other."

"A party is always fun." Louis grinned before draining his cup of tea.

Frustrated that Louis didn't quite seem to be getting it, Harry tried a different tack. "You know what my favourite part is?"

Louis shook his head. "Not a clue."

"When the newly wedded couple steps out onto the dance floor for their first dance. When the music starts, they get completely lost in each other. It's like there's no one else in the room. It's…magic," Harry professed wistfully, aware that he probably had a dopey smile on his face, but not really caring.

"That is a great moment," Louis agreed, his smile matching Harry's, though Harry couldn't be sure if Louis was remembering a first dance he'd witnessed or if he was just smiling at Harry's enthusiasm.

"Anyhow, that's why I keep helping my friends," Harry concluded. "For each of them to have that moment. All those moments they'll remember forever. I especially want that for Jane and Niall. I haven't minded helping with anything that gets them there."

"So, who's next?" Louis asked.

"Next?" Harry repeated. He'd been puzzled a few too many times during this particular conversation.

Louis expounded upon his question. "Whose wedding will you be helping with next? After Jane and Niall's."

"Oh." Harry smirked. "What makes you so sure there's a _next_?"

"There's a _next_ ," Louis stated definitively. "I'd bet money on it."

"Okay, my friends Will and Cadence. They just got engaged a week ago, and they're getting married in a week. There's a lot to do, so I'm helping out. So that's twenty-eight, I guess."

"Lucky them. And better you than me." Louis reached down to grab the voice recorder he'd set in the middle of the table. "That was all excellent. Thanks so much."

"We're done?" Harry was surprised. "We barely talked about Jane and Niall."

"I think I've got the idea," Louis told him. "You've helped Jane plan a wedding that will give them beautiful memories to last a lifetime. Am I right?"

Harry nodded in concession. "You're right."

Slipping the voice recorder into his messenger bag, Louis requested, "If I do have any more questions, can I call or text?"

"Absolutely," Harry assured him.

When Louis stood, his chair squeaked. Harry hastened to stand, too. Once Harry was upright, Louis held out a hand to him, which Harry shook, perhaps lingering a beat longer than truly necessary to enjoy the warmth and softness of Louis' palm.

"Thanks so much for meeting me," Louis said.

"It was my pleasure," Harry returned.

"If I don't see you before, I'll see you at Jane and Niall's wedding," Louis went on.

With a nod, Harry intoned, "See you then."

As Louis turned to walk from the coffee shop, Harry found himself hoping Louis would remember something he forgot to ask about Jane and Niall. Soon.

* * *

The sound of his phone blowing up woke Harry from a deep sleep. He'd been up late the night before at the reception which followed the wedding of Will and Cadence. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and he had celebrated a job well done with a few extra drinks.

The headache blooming from the centre of his head was not aided by the multiple dings alerting him that someone--or many someones--wanted his attention. Blindly, he grabbed for the mobile he'd thrown onto the night table before passing out. He reached it on the third try and blearily unlocked it, clicking on the app which showed his messages. There appeared to be messages from everyone he knew: his mum, his sister, Niall, Jane, his boss. Every single text included some variation on the question _Have you seen this yet?_ and a link.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself for whatever the link had in store for him. The link led to an article on _The Times_ 's website. The headline read: **"27 Weddings and Counting**." The byline belonged to Malcolm Tomlinson.

It felt to Harry as if his heart had dropped into his stomach as he scanned the three photos atop the article. They were pictures of Harry at three weddings he'd helped with recently; they could only have been provided by his friends. He knew that he shouldn't go any further, shouldn't read the article. He should ask his mum or Gemma to tell him what it said. Break it to him gently. His self-preservation, though, had clearly flown the coop, as his eyes tracked down to the actual article.

**You've all heard the phrase: _Always a bridesmaid, never a bride_. You might have believed this was a concept relating exclusively to women. You'd be wrong. You haven't met perpetual groomsman Harry Styles.**

**Now, Harry is no average groomsman, showing up at the stag night, then an hour before the wedding ceremony to fulfill his duties. No. Harry provides full-on services, helping the lucky bride or groom with every facet of their wedding planning, from cake testing to wedding dress fittings. Harry does it all.**

**To date, Harry has served as a veritable Guy Friday at twenty-six weddings, some of them between a man and a woman and a few between two men and, on one occasion, one between two women. Wedding Number Twenty-Seven will be that of Harry's childhood friends Niall Horan and Jane Nichols.**

**Jane has nothing but the highest praise for her pal and wedding helper. "Harry's just the best. My fiancé is not terribly interested in going to all the tastings and fittings and appointments to set things up. He'd be fine with a magistrate performing the ceremony down at the courthouse. Harry has been a Godsend. I would be nowhere near ready if it wasn't for him."**

**_The Sunday Times_ tracked down Magda Lynch, the first bride Harry helped out. "I would never have made it to the altar without Harry. My husband, Alastair, was away on business more than he was at home, and he was never available for all the things we needed to make decisions about. Harry had a flexible schedule, and he was always willing to come along and give his opinions. It was fantastic."**

**So, what would drive a man like Harry to constantly be on call for all his about-to-wed friends? He's handsome, he's a photographer (another service he is apparently happy to provide, according to the bride of Wedding Sixteen, Jasmin Taylor), he has loads of friends. Is his life still so lacking that he's eating up all his free time helping others get ready to wed? Is he going to cake tastings and band auditions to make up for the fact that he, himself, has no one special in his life?**

**According to Harry, the reason he makes himself available for all the engaged couples he knows is because weddings are "magical." To quote the man himself: "It's the ultimate commitment, isn't it? Two people standing up in front of everyone they know to declare exactly how much they love each other."**

**While his friends truly appreciate all his help, some of them can't help but wish Harry would make a commitment of his own. Sebastian Hastings, one of the grooms at Wedding Two, says, "Harry is completely lovely, but he makes no time for full-on relationships. He goes on dates every now and then, but nothing ever sticks."**

**Perhaps one of these days, Harry will carve out some time for a love of his own, but for now, he's got his eye on Wedding Twenty-Eight, and the bride has already got him booked for the printer, the florist, and the caterer. Good luck, Harry!**

Harry felt sick to his stomach now. All that talk about writing an article about Jane and Niall, and what Louis had really wanted was a story about Harry. A story making fun of something Harry was very proud of--helping out his friends as they planned the most special day of their lives. It was an honour. An honour Louis had just twisted for his own gain.

Harry's phone began ringing in earnest. He checked the display and saw that it was Niall calling. Harry sighed and accepted the call.

"Hi Niall." He sank back into his pillows, willing himself not to cry.

Niall dispensed with the pleasantries and jumped right into the heart of the matter. "Did you read it?"

"Yes." He was not going to cry while on the phone with his best friend.

"I'm so sorry, man." Niall's voice was filled with deep sincerity. "Jane feels so horrible."

"Why does Jane feel so horrible?" She didn't come off looking like a lame person who couldn't find love.

"She told that Malcolm Tomlinson guy he could do an article on our wedding," Niall replied.

"Louis Tomlinson. His name is Louis," Harry corrected absently.

"Well, whatever his name is, Jane had no idea he was planning to write an article about you. If she had known, she'd never have spoken to him," Niall swore.

"He didn't tell me either," Harry lamented.

"You met with him?" Niall asked. "Apart from when you all met up at the tasting?"

"He texted me to get more details about you and Jane. We had coffee. We talked for a while," Harry reported, wishing he'd never answered Louis' text. "He seemed nice."

"You never told me you went out with him," Niall said in an accusatory tone.

"I didn't _go out with him_ ," Harry countered. "It was just coffee. I didn't tell you because there was nothing to tell. Or I didn't think there was."

"Well, Jane's sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Niall's concern was evident in his voice.

Harry pulled in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I don't really know," he answered truthfully. He mostly still felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"That's it, then. I'm coming over," Niall declared.

"No." Harry was surprised by his own response. What he needed to do, however, was clear in his mind. "I'll come to yours in a bit. Okay?"

"Sure, Haz. Whatever you want," Niall allowed.

"You're the best, Ni," Harry told him in his sincerest tone. He didn't have a better friend than Niall.

"Call me if you need me," Niall ordered in closing.

"I will," Harry promised before thumbing off the call.

Throwing his duvet off, Harry began to more clearly formulate his plan. He was not going to take this article laying down. It was time to give Malcolm Tomlinson…Louis…a piece of his mind.

* * *

It being Sunday, Harry knew he couldn't simply go to the _Times'_ offices and expect Louis to just be there. He called their main number and pretended to be a florist wanting to check Louis was there before delivering some flowers. The receptionist checked, then told Harry that Louis was, in fact, there. No doubt celebrating his great journalistic success. The thought made Harry's blood boil.

Not trusting himself to drive, Harry called for a taxi. First, Harry actually had the driver stop at a florist so Harry could buy the cheapest bouquet they had. After that, it did not take terribly wrong to pull up outside the building that housed the newspaper.

When Harry told the receptionist that he had been told he needed to deliver the flowers in person, he expected to have to beg. The security guard, however, was busy watching a football match on the television stashed under the desk's counter, and he just waved Harry by, quickly telling him to go to the third floor.

Harry called for a lift from the bank just beyond the security desk. It arrived quickly, and Harry pulled in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and pressed the button for the third floor.

Far too soon, the doors were opening onto a cream-coloured corridor. Harry stepped out and looked first to the left, then to the right. On the right were frosted glass doors with _The Times_ etched into them.

Harry pulled in one more deep breath before going through the doorway and walking up to the reception desk. He fed the receptionist the same story about needing to deliver the flowers he carried in person. Like the security guard before her, the receptionist was involved in something else--in this case a thick novel--and she told him to go straight ahead, then turn right at the end of the cubicles. Malcolm Tomlinson's office was in that corner of the floor.

Harry thanked her and made his way into the aisle between cubicles. He dumped the flowers into the first rubbish bin he saw. He didn't need their cover any more. About half the cubicles he passed were empty; the people occupying the other cubicles paid him no mind. It was obviously a slow news day.

He heard Louis before he saw him. He was accepting congratulations on the article from someone who sounded very enthusiastic about it. He supposed someone needed to be.

The bronze sign affixed to the wall outside the corner office confirmed that Harry had found Louis' space. Harry stepped right up into the doorway and stopped, rapping on the door for attention.

Louis gazed over at him first, and he instantly blanched. His friend--co-worker?--turned to see what had caused Louis to turn pale. The young man took one look at Harry and mumbled, "Talk to you later, Lou." Harry almost got flattened as Louis' friend sped from the room.

When they were alone, Louis stood from his desk chair. "So, I'm going to guess you saw the article."

Harry could tell that Louis was going for a jokey tone, but Harry wanted no part of that. "What the fuck, Louis?"

Louis sighed. With what sounded like sincerity, he said, "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Sorry for what?" Harry countered. "Sorry for using me to get a byline? Sorry for making fun of me in a national newspaper that every single one of my friends and family read? Sorry for not having the balls to give me a heads up?" This initial rant left Harry stressed and breathless, and he inhaled deeply to compose himself. 

Louis collapsed back into his seat and took his own deep breath. "All of those."

Harry maintained his position in the doorway, not even caring if Louis _was_ sorry. "You used a conversation about things that were really personal and put it on display for everyone to see."

"It wasn't done," Louis declared. Was that a hint of desperation in his voice?

Harry was confused. "Sorry? What?"

"The article," Louis clarified. "It wasn't done. I told my editor it needed more time, but she went ahead and published it. I meant to have time to tell you."

"Do you know how humiliating it was, waking up to that story?" Harry ploughed on, unwilling to hear a single excuse Louis tried to make.

"I honestly thought she would wait," Louis insisted. "She told me she would wait."

"What does it matter?" Harry asked, frustrated that Louis didn't seem to be getting it. "That isn't the point. The point is that you took all the things I said and mocked me for them."

"I--" Harry shook his head violently, and Louis audibly swallowed whatever it was he was about to say.

"And if that wasn't enough, you went and talked to my friends about me. Since none of them warned me, either, I have to assume you weren't honest with them either," Harry said. He was a little horrified to realise tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn't hold any of it in anymore.

"Harry, I didn't mean it to come across as mocking," Louis tried to explain. "You have to believe me?"

"Actually, I don't," Harry argued, swiping angrily at the tears spilling out of his eyes. "I don't have to believe anything you say. You made your feelings about marriage perfectly clear. That doesn't give you the right to do what you did."

"What can I say to prove to you that I didn't mean to cause you any hurt?" Louis questioned helplessly.

Harry paused for a brief moment to think. Finally, he felt able to reply. "Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I'll thank you to stay away from me, my friends, and my family. Got it?"

With a resigned sigh, Louis nodded.

"You're a dick," Harry concluded. He didn't wait to see what Louis' reaction to this proclamation was, he just turned and stalked back the way he'd come, ignoring Louis calling out his name. Harry had done everything he needed to do. Now he could go lie on Niall and Jane's couch, cry some more, and eat ice cream, secure in the knowledge that he would never, ever have to see or hear from Louis again.

* * *

His blazing anger didn't last very long, followed instead by a deep melancholy. After phoning to cancel a few clients, he spent a couple days on Niall's couch, barely getting up, allowing Jane and Niall to soothe him with kind words and sympathy.

After that, he had to get back to work. Many of his clients had seen the article, but they were understanding. Many of them, in fact, assumed that since he'd been to so many weddings, that made him a great photographer, and he found himself with more bookings than he usually had. He was even starting to get used to being recognised everywhere he went, though that was in equal parts bizarre and irritating. Just like his family and friends and their incessant need to tease and analyse him and his choices.

A little more than two weeks after the article ran, Harry was in the middle of a simple shoot with a couple and their brand new twin boys when he received a phone call from his doctor. He had been in the day before for a routine physical, and he had been assured everything looked fine. However, they had drawn blood, and there was, apparently, an anomaly, so they wanted him to come in the next day to discuss it.

Despite telling himself repeatedly that if there was something severely wrong, his doctor would have told him to come in right away, Harry didn't sleep. He laid awake imagining every single little thing that could be wrong with him. He thought about texting Niall to see if he could talk Harry down, but Niall's and Jane's wedding was just a little more than a week away, and they didn't need Harry's problems on top of getting all their last-minute stuff done.

Harry arrived at the doctor's office fifteen minutes early and more bleary-eyed than he'd been in a very long time. He gave his name to the receptionist, then sat down for the agonising wait until he was called back to see the doctor.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait long. Before he knew it, a nurse was calling out his name, and he was escorted back to an examination room. Not long after that, his doctor--Dr. Maplethorpe--knocked on the door, then entered.

"Harry," the doctor greeted him, holding out her hand.

"Hi," Harry returned, shaking her hand.

Dr. Maplethorpe settled herself on a stool, looking up at Harry from where he sat on the exam table. "Thanks for coming back in," she began. "I wanted to go over the anomaly we found in person."

"Am I sick, Dr. Maplethorpe? Please just tell me what's wrong with me," Harry begged. All the various scenarios were spinning in his mind, cancer and HIV being the worst of the lot.

The doctor reached a hand out to place it on his knee. "It's nothing wrong, not per se," she began to assure him. She paused for just a beat, then went on, "Harry, you're pregnant."

Harry could have sworn every molecule of air was sucked from the room, because he was left gasping. It took a moment, but he finally recovered enough to ask, "Pregnant? As in having a baby?"

Dr. Maplethorpe nodded, smiling to let him know she was sympathetic about his shock at the news.

"Are you sure?" Harry checked, still trying to properly catch his breath.

The doctor nodded again. "We ran the test twice."

"But I've had no symptoms," Harry protested. "I feel fine. No puking, no nausea, no nothing."

She shrugged. "Happens. Some people don't experience the usual symptoms, though they might still show up."

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Harry checked once more, not quite ready to accept it as truth.

"I am," she declared. "Do you know who the other father is?"

While others might have had to search the memories of their recent sexual conquests for who the lucky (or unlucky) co-conspirator was, Harry did not. The baby's other father was Louis Tomlinson. Harry had had a bit of a dry spell before Louis and hadn't slept with anyone since, so this baby could be no one else's.

Harry sighed heavily. "Yes. I do."

"Okay, then," she continued. "I'd like to get a look at what's going on in there, make sure the baby's all right. What do you think?"

Harry nodded. He felt like he was swimming through a thick liquid and wasn't quite able to escape, but he supposed he ought to let the doctor check to find out if the baby--the baby!--was doing okay.

Dr. Maplethorpe urged him onto his back and asked him to lift his shirt and lower his jeans just a bit. While he prepped himself, she pulled over a cart with a machine on it and went about turning it on and getting it set up.

Once they were both ready, the doctor explained, "I'm going to do an ultrasound to check on the baby's development. This will help us determine when you conceived and how well the baby is progressing."

"Okay." Harry forced himself to breathe in and out slowly, since he was still feeling the effects of his earlier shock.

"The gel I'll put on will be warm, but it may feel odd." At his nod of understanding, she squeezed a sizeable amount of the bluish liquid onto his belly. She was right, it was warm, and it served to relax him a tiny bit more.

Dr. Maplethorpe took her wand in hand, then, and focused it in the centre of the gel, swirling the wand around while she watched the monitor. She was silent for a few moments, then exclaimed, "There!"

Harry didn’t immediately see what she obviously saw, and when he crinkled his forehead, straining to make something out on the screen, the doctor reached her free hand out and pointed to a dot in the middle of a larger circle of white. "That's your baby," she told him.

He stared and stared at the dot, working very hard to process what was happening. He'd walked into this office thinking he might hear that he had a disease he would need to combat only to find out he was carrying a child in his body. It was almost too much to take in.

"It looks like you're about seven weeks along," the doctor continued. "Does that sound about right?"

Harry did some quick mental calculations. "Yes. It does."

"Excellent." She spent another few moments examining the screen. "Everything looks just fine so far. Baby looks to be developing just as it should. If all goes without any problems, the baby will be full-term in March of next year."

March. Suddenly that seemed so soon. Too soon. The doctor inadvertently cut off an anxiety attack by asking, "Would you like a photo?"

"I guess," Harry answered. Might as well have a visual aid when he told…whoever he was going to tell.

In what seemed no time at all, Dr. Maplethorpe handed over a set of two ultrasound photos. "Here you go." She handed him a cloth, then, and let him clean the gel off of his stomach so he could resituate his clothes and sit up once again.

He studied the top picture briefly before inquiring, "What now?"

"Well, I would suggest finding an obstetrician to manage your pregnancy, should you decide to go forward with it," she responded.

 _Should you decide to go forward with it._ He realised she was offering him an out. Almost without volition, he shot out a hand to cover his stomach. Even though this was, perhaps, the biggest shock of his entire twenty-five years, he would never, ever consider getting rid of the baby. He couldn't.

"I will. Be going forward," he clarified confidently. "Can you recommend anyone in particular?"

"Absolutely. I'll have the nurse print out a referral. And you can always contact me if you have any questions or concerns."

"Thank you," Harry said, as always remembering his manners.

"Take care, Harry," Dr. Maplethorpe wished him before she left the room to tend to other patients.

Harry needed to haul in a couple deep breaths before he was able to hop off the table and make his way back to the reception area.

At the front desk, he made sure he didn't need to pay anything extra or fill out any other paperwork. He didn't, but one of the nurses did hand him a referral for an obstetrician that he immediately folded small enough to stuff in his back pocket. They bade him good day, and Harry left to make his way to the car park.

The sun was incredibly bright when he stepped out of the doctor's office--a cloudless day in London was rare--but Harry barely noticed. There were so many questions running through his head. How could he support a baby? Who should he confide in first? How was having a child going to affect his job? And the biggest questions of all…. What, if anything, should he tell Louis?

* * *

Harry couldn't take enough time off from work to go up to his mother's house to have her be the first one he told about his pregnancy, so he called his sister Gemma and invited her over to his flat for dinner the day after he found out he was expecting.

The first words out of Gemma's mouth when Harry opened the door were, "So, what's wrong, baby brother?"

He sighed. She knew him way too well. He really needed to invite her over more often; she might not be so suspicious if he did. "Come in, Gem. I'm making pasta."

"Yum. I approve," Gemma told him, stepping inside the flat and slipping off her sandals.

Harry led the way into the kitchen, where Gemma took a seat at the small kitchen table to watch Harry cook.

"It smells divine," she commented as he set a bottle of water down in front of her, keeping one for himself.

"Just a quick Bolognese," Harry said modestly, stirring the sauce, then doing the same to the pasta. Everything was coming along nicely. "Garlic toast?"

"Yes, please," Gemma replied.

Harry had done most of the work before his sister arrived, so it wasn't long before he was able to set a plate of spaghetti and garlic toast in front of Gemma and sit down across from her with his own food.

Gemma picked up her fork and swirled her pasta around it. As she started to eat, she looked across the table and squarely into Harry's eyes. She had only taken three bites before she put her fork down resolutely. "Spill it," she ordered.

Harry puffed out a breath and put down his own fork. "How do you do that?"

"What?" she lobbed back, though the smug look on her face told Harry she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"How do you always know when I have something to spill?"

Gemma grinned and shrugged. "It's a big sister thing." She paused for a second, then demanded, "Now stop trying to avoid my question and tell me what's going on. Have you lined up your twenty-eighth wedding?"

Shooting her a scathing look, Harry said, "No."

"Then what is it?" Gemma pressed. "I know something's going on."

Harry sighed once again, then went ahead and shared his news. "I'm pregnant."

Gemma gasped, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. After a moment, she recovered enough to ask, "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Doctor told me yesterday. He seemed pretty sure." For good measure, he pulled the ultrasound photo out from where he'd hidden it under his placemat. Gemma stared at it goggle-eyed.

Harry expected a sympathetic smile and some kind words, but instead his sister got up from her seat, came around the table, and wrapped him in a fierce hug. He returned it with equal fervor.

When they parted, she sat back in her seat and stated, "This wasn't planned, I presume."

"Not even a little," Harry responded ruefully.

"Do you know who the other father is?" Gemma questioned, her tone delicate.

With another sigh, Harry nodded. "I do. It's Louis Tomlinson."

Gemma held up a finger. "Wait a minute. Louis Tomlinson? That twat who writes _Commitments_ and that hideous article?"

"The very same," Harry reluctantly admitted.

"You slept with him?!" Harry had forgotten how squeaky her voice could get when she was truly agitated.

"I'm afraid so," Harry said. "Although in my defence, I didn't know at the time that Louis was Malcom."

Gemma took a moment to pull in some deep breaths, then she seemed composed enough to speak again. "What are you going to do?"

Harry shrugged and rested a hand on his still-flat belly. "I guess I'm going to have a baby."

After offering him a supportive smile, Gemma asked, "Are you going to tell the twat?"

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I probably should. It's his baby."

"But do you really want to have anything to do with him after he wrote that abominable article?" Gemma inquired.

"No," Harry said. "But is it fair of me not to tell him?"

With a frown, Gemma returned, "I don't know."

They both went silent, then, slowing chipping away at their pasta. Harry was imagining what reaction Louis would have were Harry to contact him to announce that he was pregnant with their baby. He didn't expect Louis would be very happy to be having a child with someone he reviled enough to write a disdainful article about.

They didn't speak again until their plates were nearly devoid of food. "I think I'm not going to tell him right away. Or anyone else, for that matter," Harry announced. "I need more time to process this, and there's no real reason for anyone else to know now. Just you. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely." Gemma nodded her approval. "Sounds like a plan."

Harry smiled at her, but he knew it was a weak smile. She'd have to take it. It was all he had the energy for."

She reached a hand across the table to cover his, patting it gently. "You're making the best decision for you, H. Don't do anything you're not ready for."

"Thanks, Gem."

"Anytime, baby bro. Anytime."

* * *

The morning of Niall and Jane's wedding dawned bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. It was a rarity indeed for London, and as Harry got dressed to head over to the hotel to help his friends prepare to wed, he decided the gorgeous weather was a good omen.

He was now officially eight weeks pregnant, and his stomach had expanded just enough that he'd had to go to the tailor two days before to have his suit pants quickly altered. He climbed into his stretchiest joggers for the trip over to the hotel, along with a baggy shirt. He wasn't showing yet--not at all--but he was still paranoid that someone would figure out what was going on.

Niall was in full-on panic mode when Harry walked into the suite they'd rented for the weekend.

"Harry!" Niall called out from where their friend Liam was trying to do his tie. "Thank God you're here. Liam can't get the tie."

"I'll get it," Liam protested as Harry set down his bag before elbowing him out of the way. "Eventually."

Harry very efficiently did up Niall's tie, then did Liam's correctly while he was at it. "There. Now you both look very dashing."

"Only you would use the word _dashing_ , Haz," Liam teased.

"Maybe I should use the word _douche_ instead," Harry lobbed back. He couldn't help but smile, though. He had spent the last few days doing nothing but think about the baby growing in his belly. It was nice to be surrounded by his friends, friends who knew nothing about the dilemma he found himself in.

He made sure Niall and Liam were busy taking selfies of themselves, then quickly changed into his own tuxedo. Of course, knowing nothing, the other boys had no reason to make note of Harry's slightly pudgy stomach, so he completed his look with no problems.

Harry allowed himself to be photographed a few times, before asking Niall if there was anything he needed at the moment. When Niall assured him he didn't, Harry went to check on Jane.

Jane had clearly just finished getting into her dress when Harry knocked on her hotel room door. He sucked in a breath at the sight.

"You look absolutely amazing," Harry told her, moving forward to clasp a hand to her bare shoulder.

"Thanks, Harry," Jane replied, beaming. "You were right. This dress is perfect. Simple and elegant, and it doesn't feel heavy at all."

Harry smiled. Several months ago, they had gone dress shopping, and it had been a long day, but at a store in the middle of Oxford Street, they had found the beautiful dress Jane now wore. It was an off-the shoulder white dress with simple lines and a relatively short train. Jane hadn't been completely convinced, but Harry had managed to persuade her that it was the perfect dress for her midsummer wedding.

"Can I help with anything?" Harry asked.

"My shoes?" Jane requested. "They're in my bag."

Harry immediately sprang into action and retrieved the simple pair of white heels from Jane's suitcase. He placed then directly in front of her so she could step into them. When she was done, she turned to face the full-length mirror the stylist had brought with her.

"I look quite pretty," Jane commented nervously. "You think Niall will like it?"

"I think it's going to take every ounce of willpower he has not to have his way with you right there at the altar," Harry told her, grinning widely.

Jane giggled, and Harry could practically see some of the nerves leave her body.

There was a knock on the door as Jane's stylist, Lou, gave some last minute touches to Jane's hair and make-up. Harry answered it, revealing Liam.

"The limos are here," Liam reported. "Everyone in here almost ready?"

"I think so," Harry answered. He twisted his head to look back into the room. "Jane? You about set?"

"I think so," she responded.

"Then I think we can get this show on the road," Harry told Liam.

Thirty minutes later found Harry standing beside a slightly shaking Niall at the front of a church. All eyes were on Jane, walking up the aisle on the arm of her father. Next to the first dance, this was Harry's favourite part of a wedding. Jane looked radiant, and he heard Niall's breath catch as he watched his bride move toward him. Harry was glad he had chosen not to be the wedding photographer when he was able to revel in this perfect moment with his best friend.

The wedding itself was beautiful, and Harry might have shed a tear or two--he blamed it on hormones.

Once the wedding was done, it was on to the reception, held at a hall just fifteen minutes from the church. Harry was sat with the other groomsmen and bridesmaids at a table not far from the head table, but he didn't spend much time at the table at the beginning of the party. Instead, he flitted around the hall, greeting everyone and catching up with some old friends he hadn't seen in years. It was a wonderful distraction from dealing with the reality of his unplanned pregnancy.

Everything was going well until he decided he had to visit the restroom. He was just finishing his business and readying himself to head back out to the reception when who should walk in the loo but Louis Tomlinson. Although, to be fair, he was probably there as Malcolm Tomlinson, although Harry didn't know why. Neither Niall nor Jane had been at all thrilled with how they'd been used to expose Harry. Could they have still invited him to the wedding?

"Harry!" Louis said, sounding surprised. How he could be surprised, Harry didn't know. It was Harry's best friends' wedding.

"You," Harry returned coolly, making a move to sweep right by Louis and out the door.

"Wait!" Louis grabbed Harry's upper arm. When Harry went to shake him off, Louis let go. However, he continued to plead, "Talk to me."

Swiveling on his heel to face Louis, Harry simply wanted to know, "Why? Why should I?"

Louis pulled in a shaky deep breath, then with an earnest look on his face, explained, "Because I didn't mean to hurt you. I truly didn't."

After moving to the side to allow an elderly gentleman to rush out of the bathroom--clearly uncomfortable being a witness to this conversation--Harry countered, "I have a hard time believing that. It didn't take long for me to see how driven you are. You wanted to get ahead, get out of _Commitments_ , and I was your ticket."

The blush which sped up Louis' cheeks told Harry that he'd hit the nail on the head. Louis' nod confirmed it. "I did want out of _Commitments_. You're right about that. And I did think this article might do it. But I wanted more time with it. I was still working on it when my editor went ahead and ran it."

"Do you even realise what it's been like for me?" Harry wondered aloud. "I'm recognised everywhere. My friends tease me every chance they get. My mother and sister have psychoanalysed me and why I've been to so many weddings but haven't got a partner of my own that's lasted more than six months."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Louis said.

Louis might have sounded sincere, but Harry wasn't buying it. "You had absolutely no right to publish something like that without asking my permission. I should sue you," Harry declared, the anger he'd felt upon the article's publication returning in full force. "And now I have to deal with your baby on top of all of it?" Almost unconsciously, he placed a hand on his stomach.

Louis' eyes grew comically wide at this revelation, bugging out in the direction of Harry's middle. At the same time, Harry slapped his free hand over his mouth. He had not meant for that to come out. Possibly ever, but certainly not now.

"Excuse me," Louis choked out. "Wait a minute. Did you say _baby_? _My_ baby?"

Harry sighed helplessly. "I did."

"You're…pregnant?" Louis sputtered.

With another sigh, Harry nodded. "I am."

Louis' voice was about an octave higher with his final question. "With my baby?"

"Yes." Harry spoke in a whisper, but it was clear Louis had heard him. All of a sudden, he rejected the continuation of the fight response and moved on to flight. Raising his voice, he moved to walk past Louis. "I've got to go."

When Louis made a grab for Harry's arm once again, Harry shuffled to the right and only just managed to evade him, though he did pause his escape long enough to look Louis right in the eye. "Louis, stop," he ordered sharply. "I just…. I just can't do this right now."

Harry started walking again, and this time, Louis let him go. Though he wanted nothing more than to head straight for home, his sofa, and his duvet, he made a pit stop to lie to Niall and Jane, telling them he was feeling violently ill, and he was so, so sorry, but he had to leave. Thankfully, they bought it, they wished him well, and he was free.

* * *

It was unfortunate that the day following Niall and Jane's wedding was a Monday. All Harry wanted to do was continue to bond with his sofa, duvet, and television. So, even though he knew it was not especially professional, Harry called all three clients he had shoots planned with and rescheduled them.

He gathered the little bit of junk food he had in the house--mostly there to feed Niall when he was over--and built himself a cocoon on the sofa. He found a mindless action movie on the telly, and settled in.

Halfway through the movie, the doorbell rang.

Harry sighed and tried to ignore it, but when the doorbell rang again, he assumed it was Niall coming to check on him, and he knew well enough that Niall would not give up. Resignedly, he paused the movie and unwrapped himself from his nest. As he was trudging over to the door, his visitor knocked.

"I'm coming!" Harry called out to assure Niall that he was, indeed, there.

When he opened the door, he took an immediate step back in surprise. His visitor was not Niall. It was Louis.

Harry's second instant reaction was to slam the door shut. Louis, however, stopped him, lifting a hand up to keep the door from closing all the way. "Wait, Harry. Please?"

Harry sighed heavily. This was quite literally the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"Please, Harry?" Louis begged again.

In Louis' eyes, Harry saw fire and determination, and he sensed Louis wouldn't easily be sent away. He sighed once more, then stepped back and gestured for Louis to come inside.

Louis toed off his shoes next to Harry's, just inside the door. Then Harry led the way into the lounge. He supposed he should offer Louis a drink, but he was just anxious to get whatever this was out of the way as quickly as he could.

While Louis took a seat in the easy chair adjacent to the sofa, Harry pushed aside his duvet and sat down right in the middle of the sofa. Once he was settled, he looked up to find Louis staring at him. Harry squirmed at the intensity of Louis' examination.

Louis must have sensed how uncomfortable Harry was, because he shifted his gaze, taking in Harry's humble flat. He gave Harry a few moments to relax before saying, "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry sighed yet again. "What for now?"

"Well, there's a list…obviously. But that one was for outing your pregnancy to Niall and Jane," Louis explained sheepishly.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Three times.

"I didn't know you hadn't told them," Louis went on.

After one more deep breath, Harry said, "I was working myself up to it."

"You didn't mean to tell me, did you?" Louis stated matter-of-factly.

"I hadn't decided," Harry confessed.

This time, it was Louis who sighed. "I guess that's fair."

"So you spoke to Niall and Jane?" Harry questioned the other part of Louis' apology.

Louis nodded. "I needed to talk to you, so after you left the wedding, I begged them to tell me where you lived. They weren't particularly happy I was there and asking after you, but when I mentioned the baby, they gave up your address."

"Traitors," Harry murmured. He would be speaking harshly to them about this later.

"No, they were just stunned into giving me what I needed," Louis countered. "They were not happy I'd shown up."

"Why did you?"

"My article had started off being about them," Louis said. "I wanted to finish what I started. That article will run in next Sunday's paper."

"Oh." There was nothing else Harry could say.

There was silence for a few seconds, seconds which were elongated by the tension which sat between the two men.

It was Louis who disrupted the quiet. "We went in completely the wrong order, didn't we?"

"Sorry?" Harry returned.

"Well, we slept together, made a baby, then got to know each other," Louis reminded him. "I'm pretty sure that's not how that's supposed to go."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "I guess not."

"You were a surprise," Louis continued.

"A surprise?" Harry parroted, puzzled.

"I have never before met a man as into weddings as you are," Louis clarified. "I've been writing _Commitments_ for so long, I've forgotten exactly what you love so much about weddings."

"What?" Despite still being so mad at Louis, Harry couldn't help but be curious about what Louis was on about.

"They're magic." Louis smiled softly. "I was reminded watching Niall and Jane say their vows. They seem truly meant for each other."

"They were," Harry agreed, smiling softly himself at the thought of his two best friends.

"And I realised something else, too," Louis admitted.

"What?"

"When you and I were talking at the coffee shop about Niall and Jane and how you came to love weddings, I felt something I couldn't quite put my finger on," Louis told him. "Then that happened to me again when you stormed into my office."

"What?" Harry repeated, steeling himself for Louis' answer.

"I wasn't really watching Niall and Jane say their vows," Louis revealed. "Not the whole time, anyway. I was watching you."

"Me?" Harry inwardly winced at the squeak in his voice.

Louis nodded and smiled again. "You looked so amazingly happy. And it wasn't because of anything happening for you, it was for Niall and Jane. It was just so clear that you were excited for them, thrilled for them."

Harry felt a blush speed into his cheeks. "I was. I am. They deserve it."

"And that's when I realised that I could actually be falling for you," Louis proclaimed.

Louis' words hit Harry like a steamroller. He couldn't quite believe his ears. "I'm sorry. You what?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you," Louis stated once again. 

While Harry fish-mouthed, Louis offered more. "I love how passionate you are. I love that you love your friends enough to want to help them have their dream weddings. I love that you're not jaded. I love that you stand up for yourself. I love that you believe in magic. Shall I go on? I could."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I think I understand."

Louis didn't give Harry a chance to say more. "I was stunned yesterday when you said you were pregnant."

"Not as surprised as I was to find out I was pregnant," Harry said dryly. "Guess those condoms didn't work."

"Are you keeping it?" Louis asked, his tone hopeful.

Harry nodded, resting his hand on his stomach. "I am."

Louis puffed out a breath of relief. "That is going to be one lucky baby."

Harry cocked his head just a little. "How so?"

"They get to have you for a dad. With all that love you have to share, you're going to be a great dad," Louis proclaimed with surety.

The blush that had been beginning to fade from Harry's face returned with a vengeance. "Thanks," he whispered.

"I came here today to be completely honest with you--the way I should have been about everything from the moment my editor changed my assignment--and to beg you to give me a chance to show you how I really feel and how much I want to be a part of our baby's life. Will you?" Louis audibly held his breath.

Harry was still angry about the article. He really wished Louis had taken the time to let him know what was going on, but the anger was all in Harry's head. His heart was a different story. His heart was telling Harry to give Louis a chance. Louis was passionate in his own way, and Harry would love the chance to transform Louis' cynicism into optimism. Show him that the world really was magical, if you only allowed it to be. 

Knowing he was making the right choice for both he and their baby, Harry looked Louis square in the eye and nodded slowly. "I will."

Louis beamed. So fast Harry almost missed it, Louis left his seat in the easy chair to plant himself next to Harry on the sofa. When Harry twisted slightly to face him, Louis snaked a hand to the back of Harry's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Harry had always hoped he'd find this one day--just as all his friends had. He'd always hoped he'd find just the right person, and when they kissed it would be like nothing he'd ever felt before. Like fireworks: strong, hot, and bright. And that was what it was like with Louis. Harry never wanted to let him go. 

When at last they had no choice but to part for air, Louis whispered, "That was amazing."

"I'm still mad at you about the article," Harry whispered back.

Louis laughed. "Give me time, and I'll make it up to you." He placed a hand on Harry's stomach. "You and this little one."

Harry grinned as widely as he could. "It's a deal."

End (18 June 2016)


End file.
